


She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not

by FangirlTrash XOs (XOs)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Horror, Hostage Situations, Psychological Horror, Romance, Stalking, Stockholm Syndrome, Survival Horror, Thriller, Trapped
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-20 20:02:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14268501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XOs/pseuds/FangirlTrash%20XOs
Summary: 22 year old Emilia Jones has just finished university and has finally started a life of her own in the big city. 23 year old Ivan Braginsky has been in love with her since their school days and has been unable to let old feelings die. In what should be an ideal love story, a twisted lust warps everything out of control that Emilia and Ivan possibly won't be able to overcome.





	She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emilia Jones spends another regular day at the office, until a lunch trip changes the course of her life.

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~~~~**_A/N:_ ** _Hello! This is my first piece to Ao3, so I'm still getting used to formatting and how to present the written stuff (I'm sure it can't be that hard?). There's a lot more features to my artillery that I'm going to have a lot of fun using. Anyway, I hope this is enjoyable to read, and I look forward to posting more to this site._

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**A Chance Meeting**

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**November was a dreary month.** There was a lot of rain as the seasons prepared the change from autumn to winter; better to relieve the clouds of their ill, cold feelings before temperatures declined and frost took over the world. Because of this, the skies were entirely coloured grey. Not a single patch of blue sky or sunshine could be seen within miles, nor was there any hope of the good weather returning. From now it, it was dismal and dull, tones of bluish greys shadowed across buildings and parks, leaving windows colourless and trees browned without the colourful summer lights. It was bleak, truth be told, and not the kind of season where people  _wanted_ to mill around in the streets. This was the time of year when shoulders were slumped, faces drooped with sudden withering age, and bouncy kindness had given way to brisk walks where not a single smiling face turned towards you. In comparison to the warm summer months of June, July and August, November was dauntingly bleak. The only relief from November was that it happened at the end of the year and December was injected with Christmas spirit to take people's minds away from the tragic setting.

It was this kind of weather that Emilia Jones despised. She much preferred the summer, although hers had been tainted with the overhanging reminder that her final exams were being marked. The thought of smelling the sea's salt air and basking under rays of sunshine appealed greatly to her, but also the general atmosphere of passers-by. Smiles were more welcoming when the sun added to their radiance and people were less irate when they didn't need to worry about catching a cold from the never-ending showers. When it was sunny, even Emilia herself felt more obligated to express kindness to others. In the rain, people kept to themselves. Everyone would much rather be indoors or more comfortable than waste their time conversing with others. It was even worse that she was stuck in the office, glumly watching the rain blur the windows and the views beyond them. She knew she was going to have to go and grab a sandwich for lunch and, since it had been dry as sawdust when she had set off, she hadn't packed a coat. The idea of traipsing through the rain to the nearest Pret didn't currently appeal to her. It was one of those days where Emilia wished she had remembered to pack her own lunch. That would've been far more convenient and ten times as cheap. She was in such a bad mood that she barely registered her co-worker approach, a steaming cup of tea in his hand.

"Hey, you," he said and she jumped in her seat. "Daydreaming, huh?"

"As if  _you_ don't do the same," she retorted, spinning on the fancy, leather office chairs provided. "Yes, I was. I don't want to go outside."

"Work doesn't end for another five hours, so I think it's safe to say you're not really going far."

"Actually, I forgot lunch," she slumped in her seat. "I'm going to head off in about five minutes, once I've steeled the courage. Need anything?"

"I mean, no, but..."

She looked at him, quizzical. Arthur Kirkland was definitely the strangest man she had met since leaving university. He was a bit older than her, having turned twenty-six back in May, yet still had the boyish face of a university student. It was his rumpled hair, tousled locks of blonde hair falling across his forehead and brushing the nape of his neck. The large, green eyes didn't help either, with his long eyelashes and thick brows that were always pulled into a serious frown. He was one of the most expressive people Emilia knew, but also the least emotional. He could do one thing and mean another. Unreadable, really, but he was also the first person she had met at Nut Industries; pronounced 'noot', for anyone who cared. Apparently, the CEO was a massive ancient history nerd, but Emilia liked the slogan: "Across the skies and beyond". It made her feel professional when she called home and told her family about her placement in the office. Arthur had made her feel at home, sort of. Whilst he was cold at first, he had taken her under his wing, a strange protectiveness that he claimed was "something a true gentleman ought to do". He had strange codes of chivalry. Sometimes, Emilia believed he had grown up Amish before deciding he'd give the rest of the world a try. Still; nice person, took care of her, you get the gist. 

"How about I grab something for you?" he offered, snapping her out of her memories. "I mean, I brought my coat, so the rain's not a problem for me, and it would be awful if I just let you wander out in this weather."

"Relax, I'll be fine," she insisted. "Besides, whenever you  _do_ grab me food, you always get fish and chips."

"What's wrong with fish and chips?" he bristled. "It's warm and tasty. Besides, you like everything in batter, don't you?"

"Not when you  _never_ let me pay you back for it," she said. "What do I owe you at this point? Fifty quid?"

" _Nothing_ ," he replied sharply. "A true gentleman-"

" _Would never let a lady pay for her own meals_ ," she rolled her eyes. "News flash, Mr Darcy. This is the twenty-first century and us girls like to treat ourselves from time to time, got it?"

"You've read Jane Austen?" he looked mildly surprised.

"I don't know which Mr Darcy is in Jane Austen, but I've  _watched_ Pride and Prejudice. Colin Firth is an old favourite of mine."

"Never mind," he shook his head, the ghost of a smile flickering across his lips. "Since you're being stubborn, I've leave you to it. Oh, but one more thing?"

"Hmm?" she paused, halfway out of her chair.

"Me and a few others were going out for drinks later today, what with it being Thanksgiving soon and all that," he shrugged. "You Americans celebrate that, right? You should come along."

"Sounds good to me," she nodded.

"OK, then," he flushed. "Do you want me to pick you up from yours, or...?"

"I'll get a cab," she said. "That way, we can both drink and have a good time."

"Good," he briefly dipped his head. "In that case, I'll see you around."

He lifted his mug and retreated elsewhere into the office. A little unwinding would probably help her, in truth. Ever since Emilia had packed up and headed for the UK, there had been a few trials she had had to face. Since she had already studied there, she was used to applying for Visas and her connection made moving there one step easier. After that, once she had been accepted for work, another Visa wasn't too difficult to obtain. It was the waiting for approval that stressed Emilia out the most. She had no negative track record and had been able to find herself an affordable flat in a city about an hour from central London via trains. She had been living in the UK for a year now. Another year and she would be able to apply for citizenship, which would save her having to constantly reapply for Visas. She missed her family, of course. They were still in the States, all the way in California and the differing time zones meant she had to plan ahead if she wanted to have a conversation with them. At first, it had been really hard. Since she was so far, Emilia couldn't ask her parents for help when she screwed up or felt she was doing something wrong in terms of bills and housing arrangements. That had made university difficult, since the general cost of life in the UK was more than the US. She had to guess it was to compensate for the entirely free healthcare, but it  _had_ meant she needed to order less pizza and plan her meals more carefully. Not that that had entirely worked out for her.

Throwing her coat over her shoulders, Emilia strode towards the exit, nodding to a few other friends on her way out. There was Marianne Bonnefoy, the office gossip who always had a story to tell; and Emilia was always reeling to hear it. Kiku Honda was as quiet as ever, offering her a shy nod from his computer before ducking his head back down to focus on work instead of banter. She was always pleased to see Tino Vainamoinen on duty, since he made office rounds offering tea or coffee and sometimes brought in delicious Finnish snacks. Nut Industries had a variety of colourful characters under its employment and Emilia couldn't have been more pleased to work alongside the people she did. There was never a day when she left work hoping to never come back. She had her bad days, sure, but everyone did. Still, it was never enough to make her sit down and wish tomorrow never came.

Her coat was not waterproof. It was for fashion, a simple black blazer that suited the requirements of her work uniform. Apparently, living four years in England still hadn't taught her that rain made frequent appearances. Instantly, her bouncing golden waves were flattened by a wall of rain as the clouds wept down onto London. The streets were drenched, the tarmac roads and the stone sidewalks turned from a light to a dark shade of grey. Streetlamps loomed overhead like solemn statues, their fluorescent heads not yet turned on for the evening. On either side of the road stood cramped buildings, huddled side by side like sardines in a can, their windows dark and expressionless, either with blinds or curtains pulled across them. Nut Industries was located in the centre of London, so it wasn't a surprise for Emilia to see big, red buses lurching past and black taxis lined up one after another. Umbrellas that ranged from simple black to bright, neon colours bobbed along the street as people rushed along for business, tourism or a shopping spree. It was lunch, so prime time for crowds to surge through the streets. Emilia was swept up in the masses, joining the street towards the commercial food-dominated roads. Her stomach was rumbling and her attempts to take shelter behind other people's umbrellas wasn't as effective as having her own. She was soaked to the bone, trying to dodge past people and get indoors as soon as possible. Compared to New York, London had a lot more twisting roads and alleys and dead-ends. The grid network of New York was far easier to navigate, whereas time and dedication was needed to tackle the busy streets of London.

Pret wasn't far from the office. It's full name was actually  _Pret a Manger_ (preh-ta-mawn-jay, or something), but Emilia had quickly learnt the locals simply referred to it as Pret. It was a cafe that sold a good, strong coffee and decent sandwiches of varying flavours. Since she was trying to refrain from spending too much money, Emilia often didn't splash out on the cakes and pastries on offer, but when she did, she was rarely disappointed. It wasn't a  _luxury_ or anything. When she walked in to Pret, Emilia never expected pretty little cakes or fancy drinks. Pret was good and sturdy, designed for the average Londoner who wished to swoop in and grab a quick bite to bring with them as they dissolved into the stream of hurrying footsteps once more. It was also an oasis in a desert on a rainy day like this. Although a queue had amassed, Emilia was willing to wait a little bit for her lunch. Standing behind a line of several others wasn't too bad when a tomato, mozzarella and pesto panini combined with a simple black coffee (yes, no milk and two sugars, thanks). This was the life Emilia had grown accustomed to since having left California. Twenty-two years old and she was already making a living for herself out in an entirely different country. She missed the beach and warm weather, but there would be plenty of opportunities for her to visit in the future.

Someone tapped her shoulder gently. Blinking rapidly, Emilia looked at the large gap in front of her. She glanced apologetically over her shoulder into mesmerising violet eyes. For a moment, she was caught off guard. Lunch was an every day, regular opportunity that Emilia often took joy from, but she never banked on encountering attractive strangers on the way there. Standing before her was a young man around the same age as her. He was tall, which was already a plus and, although he was wearing a thick coat and scarf, she could tell he was also well-built, another plus. Obviously, there had to be a catch, which was why Emilia found her gaze drawn upwards to his face. He wore an amused smile, a pleasant upturn of his features that crinkled the corners of his eyes. Although slightly rounded, there was a squared curve to his jaw, an edge of masculinity that enhanced his gentler features. Always, she was awed by his eyes. They were neither grey, nor blue, but instead a clear violet, a colour Emilia had never seen in someone's eyes before. It was only natural that she was hypnotised into staring at his face for an overextended period of time. What impressed her most was that he was blonde. Usually, Emilia envisioned herself riding off into the sunset with a tall, dark stranger, but the pale, ash blonde shaggy locks that hung off of this man's head were the opposite to watch she normally fell for. He wore it longer than most men, covering his forehead and framing his face, ashy strands creeping past his ears and down the back of his neck. Not quite chin-length, but enough for Emilia to imagine how thick and pleasant it would be to run her hands through his hair. Mild daydreams of a young woman; he was only a stranger, so she felt it was fine to harbour brief, tiny fantasies.

"Away with the fairies, da?"

Not English, nor American. There had been a lot of Poles living on her road whilst growing up. In fact, Emilia had been good friends with this one boy, Feliks Lukasiewicz, who had had a similar accent. She couldn't say for sure that  _this_ guy was Polish, but she could at least guess he was Eastern European. She liked it, anyway. He had a soft lilt to his words. He probably could've told her to get out of his fucking way and she would still swoon at the sound of his voice. Her cousin, Matt, would tell her to stop being ridiculous, to pull herself together, but Emilia was ready to get lost in his eyes and listen to him tell her about his hiking experiences in Nepal, or something spiritual. That was always the way hot guys managed to convince girls to sleep with them, wasn't it?

"You speak English?" he winced. "Espanol? Francais? I don't speak either, but-"

"I speak English," she blurted. "I was just day-dreaming. Again."

She shuffled forwards, hoping not to irritate him.

"You seem like a very thoughtful person," he remarked and he couldn't have been more wrong, in truth. "I'm Ivan, by the way."

The name rang a bell, but she supposed the name 'Ivan' was common in Eastern Europe. "I'm Emilia Jones."

A strange look crossed his face. "American."

"That's me," she said. "Bald eagle, USA, and twenty million burgers a day. And a poet, apparently."

"No, I just meant..." he studied her face. "You went to Los Angeles del Futuro high school, right?"

It was a blast from the past. She had, of course, attended that very same school, but Emilia was fairly certain she had managed to leave that life in the dust. School had been a brief hurdle for Emilia. She hadn't loved it as much as university and had never really flourished there. Any friends she had made there, apart from Feliks, had become a distant memory. It wasn't that she had  _disliked_ a lot of people, but she had been ready to move on long before the time had arrived. 

"You did," he gaped, sensing her recognition. "Emilia Jones. I remember your name. You were in the year below me, da?"

"Ivan..." she frowned.

"Ivan Braginsky," he urged, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes.

It didn't ring a bell for her. Emilia had known plenty of faces and names at LA Futuro. She didn't mean to brag, but she had been quite popular. She had known kids from the years above  _and_ below her own and had had plenty of high school friends because of it. Going to university in England had seen her fall out of contact with most of them. Her best guess was that, alongside many others, Ivan's presence had faded into nothing but a distant memory from her high school days.

"Sure," she lied, nodding and seeing his relief. "LA Futuro, am I right?"

"You don't remember," he laughed. "It's fine. It was a long time ago, da?"

Much to her relief, he wasn't remotely bothered.

"Sorry about that," she awkwardly rubbed the back of her head. "I've got a crappy memory, to be honest. Still, I'm surprised to find someone from LA Futuro in  _London_ , of all places."

"I moved here after university," he crammed his hands in pockets, gazing around idly. "I have family in Europe, so England seemed a better fit than America. Besides, London reminds me more of home than America ever did."

She supposed he was living in London whilst she had been in her final year of university. Their paths would never have crossed. She had been all the way down in Portsmouth, chilling by the coast as she had always loved to do.

"I'm sorry," he laughed nervously. "I'm babbling. Ignore me, da?"

"It's chill," she shrugged, inching closer towards the counter. "To be perfectly honest, I've noticed London is  _a lot_ different to anywhere in America. It's kind of different for me. Whereabouts do you have family?"

"Moscow," he replied with ease. "Or, at least, some of them do. My mother and my older sister, to be precise. My younger sister and dad are still in the States. Travelling around to see them can be quite awkward, but that's life. Did you come here with family?"

Emilia shook her head. "I came to England for university at first, but now I'm here to stay."

There was keen interest in his eyes, but he gestured ahead of her. Emilia was now first in line. Quickly buying the food and drink she'd wanted, she stepped aside to wait for him as he made his purchases.

"I work here, now," she continued. "In London. I don't  _live_ in London, but I'm at Nut Industries. You heard of it?"

"Not really," he shook his head, moving away from the queue. The pair of them automatically sat at a small, round table that had yet to be claimed. "But I think I've seen the building around? Tall, with a purple logo."

"Sounds right to me," she said.

"Whereabouts are you?" he asked. "In England."

"Do you know Pinner?" he nodded. "I'm there."

"Stepney Green," he said. "That's me. On the District Line."

"I think I know the tube lines by now," she smiled. "I'm still finding this a bit strange."

"Right?" he chuckled. "I never thought I'd see a familiar face ever again, to be honest. In my mind, I was leaving the entirety of America behind for good, da?"

"But you're family lives in Moscow," she pondered. "That makes you... Russian?"

"Correct," he beamed. "People have granted the stereotype that Americans don't know the globe, but you seem to be navigating it just fine."

"Trust me when I say that stereotype is completely true," she grinned. "Before I started travelling around a bit more, my  _entire world_ was America. Moving to the UK really put into perspective just where the rest of the world is, especially since England is so close to the rest of Europe. You know what I mean?"

"That was one thing I found quite intimidating about America," he averted his gaze. "Although Canada and Mexico were literally right next door, the entire focus remained on the USA. There was never much about neighbouring countries and the media never mentioned international relations like the BBC does with the EU and all that. The most you'd hear from ABC or CNN would concern either America or Russia. It's very isolating."

"I never thought of it that way," she mused.

"Being a citizen most likely helped with that," he said pointedly. "There's a big sense of community, but I found it to be quite exclusive."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"There's no need to apologise," he frantically waved his hands, eyes widening. "It's not like I was  _lonely_ , there was just this constant feeling of displacement. I'm making it sound a lot worse than it actually was..."

"What about England?" she prompted. "Do you feel more in place here?"

"Um..." he shrugged. "It's better. I still think I'd like to return to Moscow once I've earned enough to make a better life over there."

He was both joyful and melancholy. Ivan Braginsky truly fascinated her.

"Enough about me, please," he rubbed the back of his head. "Your family. Are they here, too?"

Emilia shook her head. "They stayed back in America. It's just me here."

"You must miss them."

"I do, actually," she admitted. "But my policy has always been to try and be more independent. I've always relied on my family a lot, but part of growing up is learning how to function without being guided too much."

"Are you sure you're in your twenties?" he laughed. "You sound much older. In a wise way. Not an old way."

"Wise isn't a word people usually describe me with," she grinned. "I must be doing something especially right today."

"We should meet up later," Ivan blurted out. "I don't want to keep you from work."

"Later today?" she gawked.

"Or not," he faltered.

Excitement blossomed from deep within. Not only was he a handsome stranger, but Ivan could provide her with an extract of her previous life. He was both familiar and new, a mixture of comfort and unfamiliarity. She liked where this was going.

"No, later's good," she stressed quickly before he became too disheartened. "I'm meeting some colleagues for a drink at the pub, actually. You should come meet me there."

"I wouldn't be intruding?"

"Not at all," she managed a smile and he mirrored it. "It'll be the perfect opportunity to get to know one another."

"I like the sound of that," he said. "I suppose I'll  _have_ to give you my number then, da?"

"I won't let you leave until I have it."

She was already handing him her phone before she could think twice about it. She watched as he slowly input each of his eleven digits with precision and care. Every now and then he would look at her through surprisingly dark lashes, the smallest of smiles playing on lips Emilia could only imagine were soft. Slowly, he relinquished her phone back into her hands, before standing.

"See you later, Emi," he smiled, lighting his face up once more, before wandering out of the Pret and vanishing amongst the sea of heads.

Emilia was dumbstruck, rooted to her seat from just the sheer  _memory_ of him. She studied the screen of her phone, seeing the numbers and the name 'Vanya' glaring back at her. A flush rose to her cheeks and she hastily turned the screen to black. She had wasted enough time at Pret. The others would be wondering where she had gone off to. Fumbling for her coat and bag, she hurried back down the street, pushing past annoyed faces until she reached the glassy entrance of Nut Industries. Her breaths were wild as she pushed back soaked hair. She had completely forgotten about the rain, as she could only feel the ferocious heat of a blush spreading across her face. Scrambling into the lift, she repeatedly pressed the button for her floor and impatiently waited for the lift to rise, fumbling with her hands and clothes and shifting from foot to foot. She hadn't felt this way since high school, heart hammering uncontrollably in her chest, palms sweating as if she were in humid weather and breaths ragged from exertion and excitement. These were feelings that made her feel young and inexperienced, feelings which she believed she had abandoned once she had 'grown up' and gone to university.

The lift opened and she stepped out, almost in a haze. For once, she barely noticed Tino Vainamoinen, even when he called out to her and offered a coffee. All she could do was wave, because she hadn't been paying attention. This time, she didn't meander towards Marianne Bonnefoy for the latest chitchat, but this was possibly because Marianne had seen the look on her face and was already telling others that Emilia had met someone. When Kiku Honda offered he a shy smile, she didn't notice it, instead wandering aimlessly towards her office booth. She only really snapped into attention once she dropped down into her seat. Her phone felt like it was burning in her hands, holding a secret she had yet to tell everyone about.

And then it dawned on her. Emilia Jones had a date with Ivan Braginsky.

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_**A/N:** Hope you enjoy this!_


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